


Jacob Frye x Reader: Dressed to Impress

by Oreana



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Love, Parents, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreana/pseuds/Oreana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request from a lovely on tumblr; A story where Jacob Frye tries to impress the reader’s parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jacob Frye x Reader: Dressed to Impress

**Author's Note:**

> {IMPORTANT: I am afraid that no more Jacob Frye/Assassin's Creed works will come from me having been harassed out of the fandom for nearly half a year. I've lost my drive and passion for it entirely, but I appreciate the support and love that has come from some of my readers. <3 Thank you all for the fun times, but because of the death threats and other absurd comments thrown my way via Tumblr, I'd rather forget about this fandom entirely. Do not expect anymore updates of these stories.}
> 
> If you want to check on artwork/ headcanons/ RP snippets/ love letters/ and see if requests are open, please check my tumblr: The Blind Geisha Teahouse: http://blindgeishateahouse.tumblr.com/

He was energetic, a bit of a smart-mouth, witty, and handsome to boot in your opinion. Jacob Frye had easily stolen your heart the moment he had crossed your path one faithful day when Blighters tried to bully and harass you for your money. To find such a spark left in London was refreshing, and you could hardly see your life without him.

But…

Regardless of how you personally felt about the man, your parents would have the final say in the matter. They would decide if he was fit to have your heart let alone your hand in marriage, and this fact worried you. He was a lot of things…and his ‘to the point’ behavior had you worried he might cause harm to the one thing you really valued: this relationship.

You were nervous to bring up the idea of meeting with your parents, but they had been closing in and constantly pestering you for an answer in regards to staying in London nearer to you and Jacob to get to know this man who had stolen your heart. Would Jacob even agree if you asked? Not like he’d have a choice—if he really was serious about how he felt about you, he would agree with it one way or another. You couldn’t put off something like this forever.

All the same, your throat was dry that evening at the pub and your hands were so sweaty that it was hard to keep your mug in your possession. Jacob always enjoyed the late evenings after work and usually pulled you along. He was so indulged in his pint he hadn’t noticed you were hardly bothering with yours till he took a quick look in your direction. Pulling the drink from his lips, Jacob wrinkled his brow in concern as you were still pondering over what to say and how to approach the topic.

“Something wrong?” Jacob asked, prompting you to jerk your head upward and look to him from where you were sitting across from the Rook leader. When you didn’t respond, Jacob placed his own drink down on the table and crossed his arms upon the tabletop. “You’ve not said a single word since we arrived here tonight.” His lips curved into that mischievous grin of his. “Something must be on your mind, (Y/N).”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips and you began to nervously twitch at the words that began to unsettle your stomach.  “I do have something on my mind, Jacob,” you began hesitantly, and it seemed—in your delivery—that Jacob was already on edge.

“Oh?” he asked, reclining back in his seat with a raise of his brow. He opened his gloved hands partially upon the table as if to shrug them as his frown deepened upon his face to show how nervously curious he was. “What is it?”

Now or never, you had to explain yourself and ease his worries. “It isn’t anything big, Jacob…at least, I don’t think so.”

“Then why are you falling all over yourself, love?” Jacob asked, raising his other brow.

A small sigh escaped you as you nervously dug your fingers into your hair. “My parents want to meet you,” you finally came out to say.

A laugh, which was brief and shook the Assassin’s body in its briefness, erupted from Jacob before he aimed to take back in his pint once more. “Is that all?” he asked, lips upon the rim of his mug yet again.

“Come on, this is serious!” you insisted, as you could hear that laid back tone of his. “You know my parents can decide if we get married or—.”

“—Married!” Jacob interrupted quickly with a sudden cough as he had apparently inhaled his beer too quickly at the shocking word. Getting himself under control, you watched as he wiped the bits of liquor from his lips and stared at you long and hard. “Who said a bloody thing about marriage?”

“I am speaking metaphorically, Jacob,” you insisted, not having thought of the prospects of marriage just yet, but it was an idea in the back of your mind as you had been with one another for awhile now.

“That is quite the ‘symbolism’ then,” said the Assassin, his back still straight and him to attention.

You gave him an ill amused face, causing Jacob to clear his throat and look in the opposite direction as he knew he was in trouble when you gave him that cold, hard stare. Overlapping your fingers, you rested your chin upon the bridge they made while continuing to eyeball Jacob from where you sat. “I am being serious about all of this, Jacob. Do you at least care about me to be on your best behavior when they’re here?”

He looked at you then, almost offended by your choice of words. “Of course I do, (Y/N)! Whatever made you think otherwise?”

Your lips parted for a moment as if to say something, but you refused the notion and merely shook your head. Jacob was one to always say what came to his mind and you were beginning to worry how this would play out with your parents in town. “Just…” you paused, your finger tracing the rim of your mug before you sighed, removing what doubt you could from your thoughts. “…just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior. That’s all I need to hear from you.”

Your eyes upon him, Jacob moved his hand slightly and made a ‘crossing’ motion over his chest (though that same sly smirk clung to his lips like a bad habit). “I swear it, love. I will behave.”

 

\--

 

Jacob spent his time about the train headquarters, but you were happy to live in Lambeth. Whenever the train would happen by, or a problem brought him to you, you found your evenings and mornings spent with the Assassin. Your parents would be staying with you, at your small lodgings for a week, and that’s all you had to make them see that Jacob was worth it and more when it came to your heart.

As you were making sure the house was cleaned, you were startled by the sound of the door suddenly opening only to find that it was Jacob. “Are they here yet?” he asked, making his way on in as though he was always welcomed (and he sometimes wasn’t).

“No,” you answered, shoulders faltering with a shake of your head as he was wearing that same outfit he always ran about London in. The trench coat had gotten muddy and a mess at the ends, his boots were easily the same, and the fabric was just looking stained as well. “Are you really going to wear that for my parents to see you, Jacob?”

Jacob looked down at his clothes with his arms outspread as if confused by your statement. “What is wrong with the way I dress, (Y/N)?” he asked, hazel eyes finding you as he raised his brow with a cheeky smile. “I could always get the other outfit you adore so much—the one with the old boots I’ve had for years, socks raised nearly to my knees and the white undershirt that one can hardly call ‘white’ anymore.”

He was joking as he knew you hated that outfit as he looked like a slob or some homeless man. Yeah, that would go over great with your parents—their daughter dating a homeless man. Hand over your face, you stifled your sigh and shook your head. “Mmm…there has to be something else you have, Jacob.” The words came across more as a plea when you removed your hand from your face.

“Alright, love,” he said in a low tone that still held mischief within it. “I have another outfit, and I will go change soon.” Here, he reached out to take your hand and pulled you close to him with a loving look conveyed upon his face as he soon had you in his embrace. “Can I at least ask for a kiss before I go?”

Lowering your head with a soft laugh, you hardly had to think about it as you brought your lips to his to kiss him deeply. Relaxed under the feel of him so close by, you moved your arms over his shoulders and embraced him behind the neck to entice him onward only to have the intimate moment end shortly after. “Hurry back,” you whispered. “I would like for my parents to see you when they walk through the door.”

“I make no promises,” Jacob teased between you before stealing one last kiss from you and hurrying back out the door to retrieve the outfit he was vaguely mentioning earlier.

 

 

Everything was in order as you had hoped, but you couldn’t help but start to get nervous…Jacob was taking a long time to get back to you. Had the train hideout been that far from Lambeth or did he run into trouble? You began to pace, but your pacing was halted abruptly when you heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” you asked, nervously making your way over as Jacob rarely knocked, so this obviously wasn’t him.

“(Y/N), it’s your mother and father,” answered the familiar voice of your mom from the opposite side of the door.

Resting against the woodwork with a nasally sigh, you wished Jacob could be there as you had intended, but it seems that is not how your parents would get to see him. Straightening up and pretending that these turn of events were fine, you opened the door for your parents and smiled brightly to them in greeting. “Mom! Dad!” you began cheerfully, hugging them in unison before ushering them into your home. “Come on in.”

As they did at your suggestion, you couldn’t help but look beyond the doorframe with a worried frown _. Jacob, where are you…?_ you thought to yourself before shutting the door behind you and escorting your parents about the home.

Your parents did well for themselves. They weren’t exactly poor, but they weren’t exactly rubbing elbows with the rich either and that was good enough for them and for you. However, because of their middle-class disposition, they did at times come across as a bit opinionated and what they felt was ‘always best for you’ hardly ever felt like the choices were made with your interest in mind. It was bad enough Jacob was an Assassin and a leader of the gang in London…now he was late, and that would not sit well for your parents.

As your parents continued to casually walk about the housing, you began to nervously wring your hands until your mother’s voice brought you back to yourself. “So, where is this Jacob Frye you keep telling us about in your letters?”

There it was, and you felt your palms getting sweaty and your throat becoming dry. “Oh, umm, he is probably just hung up with work for the time being is all.” You flinched when you realized that was probably the worse lie you could give in his standing. Jacob Frye was a born Assassin, and you swore to him (from the moment you both became serious) that you wouldn’t say a word about it to anybody…

“Really?” questioned your father, raising a bushy brow to the idea. “And what is it he does? Obviously not enough if you’re living in these sorts of lodgings.”

You tried to bite your tongue. Deep down, you had to realize that no man would ever be good enough for you in your father’s eyes. “Oh, he umm…” You were squeezing your hands together so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. A factory job would be a good enough lie, wouldn’t it? Well, no, because you didn’t exactly rehearse a lie together with the Assassin. Your parents would sniff right through it.

As you were opening your mouth to speak some sort of fib, you heard the door quickly open and Jacob was soon standing there much to your relief. “Forgive the intrusion, (Y/N),” he insisted, walking up to you first and foremost to kiss your hands this time and not your lips as he didn’t wish to be rude with your parents standing not that far away. “Also, forgive me for being late.”

Jacob was decent. A top hat adorned his head per usual and the outfit nearly looked the same as the last only with a few modifications and the fact it was actually clean and not stained by the streets of London. The red velvet lining seemed to beckon to your touch, and you coyly grazed your fingers upon it just to have a feel of the rich fabric. “It is good to see you here, Jacob,” you said gently, trying not to show your frustration in the situation.

“Of course,” he said aloud for everyone to hear. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” It was hard to take him seriously sometimes, but when Jacob leaned in after those few choice words, he whispered you a few more. “Don’t say a thing about my Assassin heritage—remember that bit, love?”

Apparently, he had been listening from just beyond the door and color rose to your cheeks at that thought. How long had he been out there letting you sink under the pressures of your own parent’s questions? Turning to face him, you narrowed your eyes accusingly. “Then how about you come into the house sooner next time…?”

Jacob merely smirked as it was there your father and mother were about to converge upon the man they only had the pleasure of hearing about. “Ah, the elusive Jacob Frye,” began your father, extending his hand for a greeting. Jacob eagerly accepted it, and it seemed your father was willing to remain civil about things. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

You let the introductions play out before sighing out your relief in private in regards to things going well for a start.

“We were just about to talk about what it is you do for a living,” your mother brought up, causing you to cover your face with a muffled grumble.

Of course…money would always be important to them.

Jacob laughed dryly, but it was only a sort of dry laugh that you would recognize given you knew the man the longest. “Well, I work on the streets in offering people protection with my Rooks—.”

That instantly caused you to nudge him to try and make him stop. The last thing you needed to have your parents hear was that you were dating a gang leader of London, but it was far too late now.

Your mother appeared appalled—too appalled to say anything as her hands went to her chest in dismay while your father pushed the question. “Rooks? You mean those men and women garbed in green on the streets? They are…thugs, are they not?”

Jacob almost felt challenged by that comment and you could feel him nearly remove himself from your presence to get assertive with your father. You were quick to react, however, and grabbed his arm tightly to prevent him from making a scene. “Calm your temper, _dearest_ ,” you whispered through your forced smile to your own relation.

You saw, out of the corner of your eye, as Jacob rolled his eyes and tried to straighten himself out. “No, sir,” he answered, his voice caked over in fake delight. “I would hardly call them… ‘thugs’, as you so _brilliantly_ put it—!” You didn’t resist the thought of jerking Jacob’s arm slightly to try and make him stop with his passive aggressive behavior even if you knew your father was a handful. Jacob grunted and swallowed his pride in an attempt to continue. “—They help the people of London. It is the Blighters that are the thugs, really.” Here, the Assassin motioned towards you. “The Blighters attacked your daughter on the night we met, and it just so happened I was nearby with my Rooks when I saved her.”

Your mother appeared horrified at the thought as she turned to you with a raise of her wrinkled brow. “Is this true, (Y/N)?” she asked eagerly, starting to fan herself at the mere thought of losing you.

When you looked away, as if ashamed to never have mentioned it to her, it was then your family realized the truth.

“Why did you not tell us of this?” she continued to pry.

Honestly, you didn’t want her to think living in London was a bad decision on your part. The moment they would hear of such a thing, they would demand you return home in the countryside. “It just slipped my mind, I guess,” you said in a low tone, giving away that you had no clear answer.

Jacob spoke up quickly, as he could feel how uncomfortable you were. “Well then—now that we’ve been acquainted, how about we look to dinner?”

“Sounds like a delight to me,” answered your father, taking easily to the Assassin’s bait.

It was then the men turned to the two women in the room, and your mother was quick to raise her hand to the thought. “I can help (Y/N) with that bit.” Here, she hiked up her dress and hurried over towards you with her hand outstretched to take yours. “Come, we can catch up in the meantime.”

Looking to Jacob, as if to plead in your eyes alone that he be on his best behavior, you found yourself being pulled from him in little to no time at all no thanks to the grip your mother had on you. As you were about to be ushered away into the kitchen, you saw your father approaching Jacob, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach twist into a knot at the thought of those two alone.

Knowing your father, he was going to talk to Jacob about the Rooks and Blighters and the status of London. He was going to try and get an estimate on how much he made and what he did in his spare time…anything to create gossip for your mother later.

 _Please, remain civil_ , _Jacob_ , you mentally pleaded as the door was closed to allow the men privacy while you and your mother worked in the kitchen.

“Well then,” began your mother as she clasped her hands together, “what do you have about the house for dinner?”

“I have mutton, cheese, bread, and rice,” you answered a bit absentmindedly, as you were still nervous about your father and lover being alone together.

“That should do then.” Your mother was attempting to be chipper as she brought out everything that would be needed to make the meal for the evening. “So Jacob Frye seems…real nice.”

You could tell she was being ‘polite’. Your mother rarely missed a beat in some instances, and there was no doubt in your mind that she saw how aggressive Jacob was deep down given the few choice words your father let slip around him. Closing your eyes tightly at that thought, you twisted your mouth to the side as you found the rice and bread. “He is a nice man, yes,” you answered, playing dumb at what she was truly trying to say. “He has also been kind and helpful around the house when he is able.”

“When able?” your mother parroted, turning to you with interest at that statement. “He isn’t around often then?”

“Of course not, mother,” you said with a sigh, knowing she would try to find the negative in that statement. “He does work.”

“Oh yes, those ‘Rooks’ of his,” she commented while working on preparing the mutton she had gotten her hands on. “And it doesn’t bother you at all that he is practically a criminal?”

The comment was like an arrow to the heart, and you quickly retaliated. “He is not a criminal, mom! Jacob is doing what he can for the people of London!” you grumbled, trying to keep your temper under control in regards to the situation as you continued to help with the meal.

Of course, you could tell this was going to be a long evening trying to convince your mother that Jacob Frye was a good man as she merely scrunched up her nose at your defense as though she smelt something terrible.

“A leader of a gang in London…sounds like a criminal to me, (Y/N),” she whispered between you, continuing about preparations for dinner regardless of her disposition with the man you adored.

It was a long time in the kitchen. For the moment, it seemed your mother and you couldn’t see eye to eye on Jacob and how he was a good man. It was upsetting as you wanted her to embrace the idea of you both together, but now it seemed she was intent to make you realize he wasn’t a good match for you. Once the meal was finished, you were asked to go fetch the men, and you did so with great inner rejoicing…anything to get away from that woman and her negative words.

Of course, coming upon the door leading into the living room where the two men were sitting, you couldn’t help but stall at the idea and try to eavesdrop on the conversation going on.

“I am merely saying that it seems impractical, Mr. Frye,” your father commented vaguely from beyond the door as you slowly opened it to peek into the room. The two were sitting adjacent to one another, and Jacob had his right leg crossed over his other with his hands folded tightly in his lap.

In his sitting alone, you could tell the Assassin was trying to be on his best behavior. His lips were pursed in a way to show he was biting his tongue and preventing himself from being venomous, and his hands were usually clenched whenever he was keeping his temper under control. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You think I wouldn’t find the time to spend with her?” Jacob asked, his tone full of annoyance. “I find enough time as is to do as needed.”

“Question is: is that enough to make my daughter happy?”

A sly grin appeared on Jacob’s face and your heart began to beat wildly in worry. “If you were around often enough, you would hear through walls how happy I make your daugh—.”

“Jacob!” you quickly interrupted, entering the room to disrupt the conversation. Realizing how sudden and scolding the tone came across, you cleared your throat against your hand to play it off as nothing. “And, umm, daddy…” Your tone returned to normal as you continued. “…dinner is ready.”

“Sounds delightful,” said your father, getting to his feet from his chair he was sitting in and passing by you without another word on the matter.

You smiled in passing your father before turned to Jacob with a disapproving look.

“What?” he asked, arms outstretched as though he had said and done nothing wrong.

“You know ‘what’, Jacob Frye!” you chastised, jabbing at his chest in a low warning of a whisper. “Don’t do anything…please!”

The Assassin got close to you as he felt confrontational on the matter. “I am not going to sit by and let them argy-bargy with me all because they think I am all to cock!” Jacob grumbled between you both, prompting you to raise your hands to silence him and still his actions as he was practically in your face at that moment.

“Just…” you quieted your words, trying to recollect yourself on the matter. “… ** _Please_** , Jacob…just pretend to be nice and ride through it, will you?” When he grumbled at the thought, you held onto his trench coat to try and straighten him out. “I don’t want them to come between us, so please…for me?”

“Bloody…” Jacob paused in his attempt to swear further and merely rolled his eyes back with a sneer. “Fine. I will do my best to behave.” His arms slapped down to his sides in defeat in the matter as it was then you guided him to the dining room table.

Dinner started off fine, as you had hoped. Jacob did his best to overlook any insensitive words your father and or mother might toss his way while doing his best to sugar up your mother at the very least. Your mother, thankfully, bought into it and fell into his honey coated words as easily as you did when Jacob was perusing you in the beginning.

“Well, this is indeed a delightful meal, you two. Thank you kindly for making it,” your father praised, causing you to smile briefly as you were not done chewing your mutton yet.

“Mom did most of the work, really. You have her to thank in this,” you insisted, grabbing your glass to sip down some water (as that was all you had for drinking aside from some milk for breakfast.)

“Honestly, (Y/N),” began your mother in that playfully scolding tone, “when are you going to learn to cook a bit better? You want to be able to cook for Jacob and your kids, right?”

You could tell right then and there that Jacob nearly spit out his water at the mere mention of children (or nearly choked). Honestly, the thought made you flinch as well given what a touchy subject this could be. “M-Mom, don’t you think—.”

“And what about you, Mr. Frye?” your father interrupted, looking to your bewildered lover whom sat beside you. “Have you considered having children of your own?”

Jacob laughed nervously at the prospects. “Well, I...” Regaining his composure, he gave a sideways smirk, turning to your father with his eyes lidded in mischief. “I would rather put a ring on her finger first then talk about children.”

“And do you plan on doing so?” your mother was quick to ask this time.

“Mother,” you grumbled in warning as if to say in her title alone that the question wasn’t necessary.

Jacob’s eyes shifted about in chaotic thought as he put his fork down for the moment to think on a good way to approach this topic. “I would like to, but I would like to see how things go with us first.”

“And you’ve both never thought of your future together at some point?” your father asked, finding that bizarre in his tone. “That’s a bit of poor planning, boy.”

“Dad!” you snapped, whirling your head in his direction.

Jacob’s hands turned into fists, and you cringed at the sound of the leather stretching upon the action. “I have thought of my future, but I’ve also been juggling the future of London too, sir…” Jacob’s tone was low and assertive. In the way he spoke, he sounded like a caged dog about to bite the finger that was daring enough to poke through the iron bars. It made you quick to turn to him to try and keep him at bay.

However, your father wouldn’t be one to be contained. He obviously felt challenged by Jacob’s tone of voice and choice of words. “Shouldn’t the one closest to you matter more, son?”

The chair angrily scratched against the floor as Jacob rose from where he was sitting, making you retract your hands you had on his back and sigh at these turn of events. “(Y/N) does matter to me! Just because I have other things to do in this bloody world doesn’t mean I think of her any less!”

“Jacob!” you said in warning, but Jacob wasn’t going to listen to you now. Just by grabbing his tensed arm you could tell.

“You keep putting other things in front of her, and she could easily become the last person on your list,” your father scolded, causing Jacob to pound his fist on the dining room table and make the dining utensils shake.

“What proof should I have to give you that I love (Y/N)? Is my word not enough in this?” Jacob asked angrily, his nostrils flaring like a bull that had just seen the color red and was ready to attack.

When your father threatened to speak, Jacob raised his hand to stop the thought.

“You know,” began Jacob, his tone still boiling in rage as he gripped the tablecloth tightly, “I have fought off all kinds of rubbish and brutish chaps to keep your daughter safe, and nothing has yet to come between us…” He paused, leaning in angrily as he stared down your father. “….I doubt it is going to take someone like you to do that, so don’t even try… ** _sir!_** ”

Before you could say anything on the matter, Jacob removed himself eagerly from the dining room and even the house when you heard the front door slam shut. Even if Jacob wasn’t going to give up on you, you couldn’t help but look to your father and mother with eyes nearly blinded with tears. Why did they have to be so impossible?

“Forgive me,” you insisted hastily, not having it in you to chastise your own parents as you quickly got to your feet to pardon yourself. “Jacob…!”

You didn’t bother to listen to your parents as they shouted out to you. Jacob was angry, and the last thing you wanted was that man running loose with that temper of his out of control.

 

 

He was a quick one, you’d give him that. As the daylight was replaced by twilight, you found yourself surrounded by nothing but your emotions and the cold embrace of the evening. It was then you realized you should have left with your coat at least. Arms wrapped around you, you shivered as you tried to find comfort on a bench at the nearby park.

“Dammit, Jacob…where did you go?” you asked yourself, blowing into your hands with a worried frown. _What am I going to do? Mom and dad are probably furious with us both…they are never going to offer their blessings in this matter._

As you continued to tremble and tried to fight off the cold, you felt something warm finally embrace you from behind. It was a trench coat—a trench coat belonging to Jacob. “Found yourself all the way out here, (Y/N)?” he questioned, joining you on the bench shortly after offering you his means of staying warm.

“Thank you,” you whispered in praise, nearly burying your face into the fabric to remain warm and hide your sorrow in the situation. When you found the courage, you looked to him, but Jacob remained staring forward as if equally embarrassed in regards to looking at you. “Where did you go? I was worried about you!”

Jacob smiled briefly, moving an arm behind you as he rested it against the bench. The air, as cold as it was, easily could be seen in his muffled scoff, which escaped his lips. “I just went out for a bit. I just needed to think.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that as you looked to him curiously. A part of you wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but that would be silly as you already knew what it probably was.

“Dammit all,” he hissed, snapping the silence like a brittle twig. “That all went balls up, love, and I am sorry.”

Eyeing him over, you saw him tip his top hat downward as if to hide in shame, and you couldn’t help but smile softly. “I know it did, but…the things you said were sweet,” you admitted, moving your gaze to the road beyond you both to just look idly ahead.

You heard Jacob shift slightly at your honest comment. He had removed his top hat slightly at those words as they apparently brought a bit of calm to him and his anxiousness. “You’re not bloody pissed at me, (Y/N)?”

Smiling again, you shook your head before finding it within yourself to look to him. “It takes two to dance, as they say, and the things my parents said were…uncalled for, and I apologize on their behalf.” Holding the coat close to your body to try and stay warm, you stifled a small chuckle. “Besides, I could tell how much you cared, and I think that was the best part of the evening.”

“Do you really need your parents riding my arse to have you realize that, love?” Jacob asked with a playful jeer as he turned on the bench to look at you better. “(Y/N), I was honest when I said I wasn’t going to let anybody come between us. You’d think the bloody bruises and broken bones I’ve gotten from trying to keep you alive would prove that.”

You shook your head slowly. “I know you are, and I appreciate your words, Jacob. I also appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Moving closer to him once more, you found your cheek resting contently upon his chest. 

Going home wouldn’t be wise. You weren’t sure if your parents would start up another problem so soon, so instead you found yourself relaxing under the stars on the bench with Jacob Frye.


End file.
